Lori Wilde - As You Like It

He said nothing, just watched and waited. He’d heard of Pegasus. It was a small but rapidly expanding company that had built their reputation on cutting-edge technology and a penchant for maverick risk taking.

“Our largest client is Baxter and Jackson.”

“The sex institute?” He purposely put an emphasis on the word sex to see if he could provoke a blush. No such luck. Her professional persona was firmly in place and she wasn’t about to encourage him. But, although her lips didn’t turn up at the corners, her eyes did crinkle and he felt as if he’d been awarded a grand prize.

“Yes. The sex institute.”

“Must make for a titillating work environment,” Beau said, exaggerating the first syllable of titillating. He made sure his voice was low and husky and provocative.

“At times.”

Cotton candy wouldn’t melt in her mouth; her expression was that dry. He wondered what it would take to wet her up from the inside out.

“So what does all this have to do with me?” he ventured, although he had a pretty good idea where the conversation was headed and he was loath for it to roll there. Maybe he was wrong and she would surprise him, he hoped wistfully.

“Baxter and Jackson have commissioned Pegasus to produce a virtual-reality video game for them.”

“A touchy-feely video sex romp? I thought Baxter and Jackson were strictly clinical.”

“It’s an interactive, instructional type game designed to assist couples who have trouble letting themselves go during intimacy.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. Baxter and Jackson have done considerable research that shows a sense of whimsy is a key ingredient in happy relationships. Apparently a lot of their patients don’t know how to instigate their own bedroom fun. Hence the idea for a video game.”

“You don’t say.”

She kept her voice just above a whisper and leaned in closer. “Just between you and me and the fence post, I think it’s a preposterous notion, but they are the clients.”

“What’s so preposterous about it?”

“You shouldn’t have to play a game to get closer to your significant other.”

“Personally, I’ve always been a big fan of whimsy in the bedroom. I like toys and games and role-playing. How about you?”

He was being wicked and he knew it, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. He had the strangest urge to ruffle her feathers. Maybe it was because she’d ruffled his without even trying and he could not stop thinking about undressing her and discovering exactly what delicious treats lay beyond her composed exterior.

Now here it was at last. The pink flush staining her cheeks. He suppressed a triumphant grin.

She straightened, pulling away from him. “I suppose your sublime appreciation of wacky boudoir antics is why they asked me to contact you about designing the game for them.”

“Boudoir antics?” He laughed and wriggled his eyebrows.

“It’s an expression.”

“Yeah, if you’re seventy-five.”

“What would you have me say? Love-shack frolics?” She narrowed her eyes and her nostrils flared. “The mattress tango? The sleeping-bag slide? Tube-steak boogie?”

“I was thinking something a little more down and dirty.”

Wooo, he’d pushed her hot button and she was fun to tease. He murmured a phrase that would have spurred his Italian grandmother to scrub his mouth out with Ivory.

She glared in irritation. “Get over yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you have to make a joke of everything?”

He shrugged. “Sorry. It’s my nature. Survival mechanism.”

She drummed her fingernails on the table. “Can we return to the topic at hand?”

“If you insist. I’d much rather bug you about sex. It’s so easy to make you squirm.”

Ignoring that last comment, she said, “We’re prepared to offer you significant compensation if you sign on to the project”

Beau shook his head. He had to admit, the idea of creating a virtual-reality sex video game was intriguing, especially if he would be working closely with Marissa, who, it seemed, could morph into something of a spitfire when she got charged up. And once upon a time he would have found the Baxter and Jackson concept quite challenging. But not anymore.

“I’m sorry you wasted your time coming down here, Ms. Sturgess, but I’m retired.”

“People come out of retirement all the time.”

“Not me.”

“Perhaps if you slept on it.” She reached up a hand and fingered her beaded necklace.

“Really, I’m not interested.”

She fished a pen from her briefcase, jotted down a number on a cocktail napkin and passed it across the table. “Would this help persuade you?”

“Money isn’t going to win me over.” He pushed the napkin back toward her without even glancing at it.

“What will it take then?”

“That chapter of my life is over.”

“Why?” she challenged.

“What do you mean why?”

“You’re a young man. You were once one of the best software designers in the world. Why would you walk away from it?”

She met his stare and Beau realized she honestly couldn’t fathom why he had left both his career and New York City behind. Even though he expected it from her, he felt oddly disappointed. She asked the same damn questions Angeline had asked. He couldn’t explain it to her, just as he’d been unable to explain it to Angeline. He knew she simply wouldn’t understand. Not a success-oriented, achievement-driven woman like her.

“I’m sure there are plenty of designers in Manhattan that would leap at the chance to create this game for you, Ms. Sturgess.”

“Marissa,” she said and laid her hand over his.

The physical contact weakened his knees, tightened his stomach and made him glad he wasn’t standing. She was pulling out the womanly wiles now and God help him, he was susceptible.

“No can do, Marissa.” Best to send her on her way posthaste before he got himself into serious trouble.

“Everyone has their price, Beau,” she wheedled. “Come on. Tell me. What’s yours?”

That approach was not going to work with him. He found it mildly insulting that she wouldn’t accept no for an answer, even at the same time he admired her buoyant tenacity.

“You can’t afford me.”

“How do you know?”

“Trust me on this, you wouldn’t be willing to pay my price.”

“How do you know unless you tell me what it is?” she insisted.

“And risk getting my face slapped?” He chuckled. “Not hardly.”

She ground her teeth. “Don’t tease.”

“Who’s teasing?”

He held her gaze. He wasn’t even sure what he was proposing, or even if he was proposing anything, but the jump of sexual electricity between them was undeniable. Why let the opportunity slip through his fingers? Especially when it was past time he learned how to enjoy good sex for its own sake and not as a prelude to commitment.

She sucked in her breath. “Listen, this project would help lots of sexually dysfunctional people improve their lives. Don’t you want to help people?”

“Not particularly.”

Her forehead wrinkled in shocked surprise. “What happened to you?”

“Life.”

She launched in again, arguing in circles, gesturing with her arms, talking faster and faster until he feared she was going to burn up all the oxygen in the room. Like a swivel-hipped running back, she was relying on her verbal speed and agility and commitment to her position to influence him.

Poor woman.

She had no idea she had selected exactly the wrong track with him. If she had only stuck with the sexual banter he might have been persuaded. But when those around him got excited and tried to force him into going along with them, Beau stubbornly dug into his position. He shook his head.